


A Pretty Good Record, Considering

by druscilla



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Angry Sex, Drunk Sex, Face Slapping, M/M, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2015-08-01
Packaged: 2018-04-12 11:21:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4477403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/druscilla/pseuds/druscilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete comes home to find Patrick trashed and angry, half drunken sex ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Pretty Good Record, Considering

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Drunk sex, angry sex, face slapping (all meant to be consensual and in the confines of a loving, monogamous relationship with previously established limits) // NOT BDSM

Patrick has only drank himself sick three times over Pete in his life, which he thinks is a pretty good record, considering. Tonight might be lucky number four though. He grimaces as he takes another pull from the bottle. This time when he sets it down, it's way too hard and leaves a small scratch on the glass tabletop. He gives a thin smile that doesn't look right on his face and has another pull, forcing his throat to swallow long after the alcohol is gone.

He hears the front door open and he doesn't care. His eyes are red behind his glasses from crying and he hopes Pete sees and he hopes it hurts and he doesn't fucking care, he doesn't. He forces the bottle into his hand again just so his lips can be closed around it when his boyfriend enters the room. Their eyes meet and Patrick swallows.

"Little early, isn't it?"

"Fuck you," Patrick spits out bitterly, slamming the bottle down. He hopes the table breaks. He told Pete glass tabletops were a stupid fucking idea to begin with. "It's your fault anyway."

"You were drinking before I woke up," Pete reminds him darkly.

"Everything's always your fault." Patrick's voice is bitter and angry and ugly and doesn't sound a thing like him.

Pete stares at him silently, finally shaking his head and moving forward to grab the bottle off the table. Patrick fights him for it, but he's drunk so there's not much of struggle. Pete crosses to the kitchen sink and pours the remainder down the drain, dropping the bottle in the basin and leaving it there. He leans forward on his arms, eyes closed, trying to slow down the racing thoughts in his mind with deep breaths.

He hears the chair scrape against the floor and when he turns, Patrick is slipping out the door and down the hallway.

"What the fuck are you doing now?" Pete yells, stomping after him. "If you have a secret stash of booze, I swear to God . . ."

He sees Patrick disappear into their bedroom at the end of the hall. He hears the door shut and he knows it's going to be locked when he tries to turn the knob, so he slips through the second bathroom door before Patrick has a chance to lock it.

Patrick's not happy when Pete jams his shoe in the doorway before he can shut it and pushes his way in. He opens his mouth to yell, but the older boy silences him by shoving him back onto the bed with two hands against his chest. 

"No, you shut up. I'm not discussing dick with you while you're drunk. So you can either sleep it off, sober up, or I'm dragging you into the shower and turning the water on. Then I'm calling someone else to come deal with your bullshit." 

Patrick just glares at him. "I fucking dare you."

Pete leans in until their foreheads are touching, eyes staring into the blue ones that are radiating fire at him. "Don't fucking test me, little boy."

And Patrick kisses him hard, biting his lip. Pete cries out and pushes him back, straddling Patrick's hips as he falls back on the bed. "Oh, you're fucking asking for it," he snaps, pulling his shirt off and leaning in, tugging Patrick's head back by his hair roughly, and biting at the exposed skin of his neck. 

"Eat me." Patrick tries to spit at him, but his head is jerked to the side by a slap. The moan that follows has Pete instantly hard. 

The older slips slightly lower, hurriedly undoing Patrick's button and zipper, moving to tug the material down. The younger boy is still fighting though, kicking and squirming, so Pete moves back up, pinning him to the bed by his shoulders. His fingernails dig into his skin through the thin tee shirt. 

"You take those off or I'm going to beat your ass black and blue and I'm not fucking around, _youlittleshit_." Pete speaks through gritted teeth and Patrick whimpers as the fingernails cut deeper into his flesh, causing tears to jump into his eyes from the sharp pain.

"Okay!" It's almost a scream, but not quite. Pete lets go and moves over, while Patrick sits up frantically, forcing the material over his legs and kicking the jeans off. He turns to look at Pete, but he's already being flipped onto his back, a pillow shoved hastily under his lips.

Now he screams as he feels the lubricated finger push roughly into him without warning. Then he's just moaning, inhibitions stripped by the alcohol. He's fucking himself against Pete's hand as he feels a second finger push in and then a third. "More, more," he's begging and Pete's ignoring him, going slow on purpose, and then the fingers are gone.

Pete's standing up to take off his own jeans and Patrick's scrambling to his knees, drunkenly begging to suck Pete's cock and growing impossibly harder when the older boy grabs his face and simply presses his length past the lips. Patrick is moaning and gagging and trying to keep his mouth open. He's trying not to choke too hard as he repeatedly feels Pete hitting the back of his throat.

Then suddenly he feels hands on the back of his neck and his face is being pulled forward until he's feeling it push past the opening of his throat. He's choking and sputtering, trying to pull back, and then the hands are gone and he's able to breathe. Only for a moment and then Pete is pulling him back, attempting to fuck his face again. It happens three more times and then he's pushed roughly back on the bed. 

"Finger yourself," Pete tells him, voice thick with arousal. 

Patrick doesn't even think, just pushes two fingers in his mouth and leans back, pressing them in, a soft noise tumbling from his lips as he does. When he opens his eyes, Pete has a bottle of lube in one hand and he's slowly stroking himself as he watches Patrick violate himself on the bed.

"You know, I really shouldn't even fuck you. I should just make you come like this while I watch. You really don't deserve to have my cock inside you."

"No." Patrick whimpers, still thrusting his fingers in at the awkward angle. He moans softly. "Don't please. I'm sorry, I'm sorry." The sight of him apologizing while fucking himself on the bed is too much for Pete. 

He slides up the length of his boyfriend's body and Patrick immediately pulls his fingers out, wiping them on the underside of the pillowcase. Pete's pressing in, quick enough to make it rough and keep Patrick making that continuous moan, but not quick enough to cause any real pain. He hooks his arms under his boyfriend's shoulders to anchor them together. Once he's fully in, swearing at how tight the other boy always feels around him, he pulls right back out. 

He keeps a rhythm of pulling out quickly and hearing Patrick gasp and pushing back in slowly to hear him whine. He keeps up the torturous melody until he feels the other boy begin to loosen and then he slams into him, hard, with no warning.

Patrick's crying out, trying to match the tempo and pushing himself back to meet Pete's thrusts, but he gives up quickly and just continues to moan as he's being fucked into the mattress.

Pete's close and he's secretly hoping Patrick isn't so he can just pull out, shoot on his face, and tell him to finish himself off. He's still pissed and his boyfriend's little drunken slut act isn't helping.

No luck. Patrick comes before Pete does and the older boy doesn't even have time to pull out. He comes the second he feels the warm stickiness hit him in the stomach. He does manage to pull Patrick's hair back, biting him on the skin of the shoulder as he fucks him through the orgasm. 

Patrick collapses immediately after, eyes already closed, half asleep. Pete stomps off to take a shower. By the time the water is cold, he's ready to slip in bed next to Patrick and fall asleep. After all, Pete muses, as his eyes close, they don't get to have angry sex very often. Which is a pretty good record, considering.


End file.
